


My Only, My Own

by SushiOwl



Series: Multi-Ship Prompts [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Peter Hale, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Happy Ending, M/M, Mpreg, No Incest, Non-ABO, POV Stiles, Riding, Rimming, Smut, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 09:39:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12251763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: What he had was two suitors. Two alpha werewolves looking for someone to bear a progeny. That was why this situation wasn't the usual. He was a spark with a uterus, to put it plainly. His biology was stupid and sometimes a pain, but he'd been certified as fertile. The child he would have would definitely be strong, gifted, so now he was with the most powerful family on the west coast.





	My Only, My Own

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a prompt given to me by an anon on Tumblr... I didn't follow the idea at all. >_>
> 
> There is only a very loose plot. It's mostly just sex.
> 
> Auuuuuuuuuugh, my face hurts. My gums/jaw are swollen and stabby, which is why it took extra days for this to be posted.
> 
> I sort of edited it, I guess, please point out any errors.

It wasn't the most typical situation, but it could be infinitely worse. Stiles knew that. That was why he didn't complain. Okay, yes, he complained, but more for the sake of complaining than actually having something to complain about. He hadn't tried to run away. Honestly? He liked it here.

Here was the manor of the sovereign California pack, the Hales. He had everything he could ever want, like insanely fast internet, a super nice gaming computer, a TV that took up half a wall, a bathroom with a Jacuzzi and the biggest, softest bed in the whole universe, he was sure of it. He also had as much food as he ever wanted, though the grease in his diet was limited, as was the caffeine. That was okay, because he got all the lean meat, grilled veggies and light pastries he could shove into his face hole.

What he also had was two suitors. Two alpha werewolves looking for someone to bear a progeny. That was why this situation wasn't the usual. He was a spark with a uterus, to put it plainly. His biology was stupid and sometimes a pain, but he'd been certified as fertile. The child he would have would definitely be strong, gifted, so now he was with the most powerful family on the west coast.

His-- _ the _ alphas, they were called Peter and Derek. Peter was the brother of the matriarch, and Derek was her son. The line of succession in the pack meant that the eldest daughter would claim sovereignty once Talia Hale was no longer matriarch. Peter and Derek were trying to secure an heir, so they could claim their own territory just to the east.

So they were both trying to get him pregnant at the same time.

Well, not the  _ same _ time, but anyway.

Derek was six years older than he was, and Peter was almost twice his age. They both treated him with respect and kindness, but everything else was different as night and day.

Derek came to him almost immediately, on the first morning he was there. He brought him fruits and candied nuts with juice. They talked, though it had been weird, because they didn't really have anything in common. Derek was a reader, liked working out and getting up at dawn to go running. But he was sweet. Derek did his best to follow along with the things Stiles was saying, his ranting about video games. He even smiled like he thought Stiles was cute, but mostly he was perplexed.

When they kissed, it was because they reached for the same piece of fruit, and their eyes met. It was like a romcom with the cute, quirky girl and the shy guy who didn’t know he was hot. Their noses bumped, and they laughed, tried again and got it right. Then Derek actually picked him up and carried him to bed.

It was slow after that, gentle, almost like Derek was afraid to hurt him. He turned out the lights and pulled the covers over them, alpha red eyes glowing dimly in the darkness. "What do you like?" Derek asked, barely louder than breathing. He blinked, eyes going out for a fraction of a second. "I know that--I heard Deaton ask if you were--I don't care that you're not a virgin, I just--"

Stiles felt himself blushing, which was silly because he was already naked with an equally bare werewolf pressed against him. "I--I'm not a virgin, but that doesn't mean I have a lot of experience." More blushing. God, it wasn't fair that Derek could see in the dark, and Stiles had no idea what expression he was making. "What do you like?"

That brought silence. "Uh," Derek said eventually. "I don't really know. I've had sex too, but not a lot of it."

Stiles rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, rubbing at his nose. "Do you want me to suck you off?"

A bit more silence. "Isn't that a little counterproductive? I'm... trying to get you pregnant. We should save my… y’know."

Covering his face with his hand, Stiles snickered a little. "True. Yeah, good point."

"I can suck you off though?" Derek offered.

It wasn't like Stiles was going to say no.

Derek gave him one last slow kiss then shuffled down under the covers until his hot breath was on Stiles's dick. Which was already hard, because he was only twenty and quite keen on having sex with a scruffy guy with an insane shoulder to waist ratio. Derek kissed the head of his dick, almost tender, before he sucked the head between his lips.

Now, Stiles didn't have much experience with blow jobs, so he wasn't going to be critical. But this one was a bit... lackluster. Derek was trying, oh god was he trying, but he didn't know how to keep a rhythm and kept having to pull off to swallow. Stiles came to the very slow realization that when Derek said he'd had experience, he most likely meant just with owners of vaginas.

But still, Stiles was getting wet, because it was attention to his dick, and that was pretty much all his body needed. He squirmed a little, finally letting go of the pillow to reach down and touch Derek's sweat damp hair. "Hey, come up here," he said, giving one of his ears a tug. (Those ears were on the small side, but they were so cute, and he hoped his spawn inherited them instead of his own Dumbo ears.)

"Are you not--?" Derek said, shimmying up Stiles's body and poking his in the butt cheek with his own hard dick.

"I am. I  _ really _ am, which is why I need you to put it in me now," Stiles said, before he bit his lips.

"Oh," Derek replied, nodding into Stiles's shoulder. "Okay. Tell me if I hurt you."

Stiles wasn't going to mention the thick dildo he'd been forced to part with on coming here.

It took some maneuvering. Stiles was long and skinny, and Derek was kind of like a big sexy box. But Stiles ended up on his side with one leg up against his chest as Derek slowly pressed into his damp hole. Stiles shuddered violently at the feeling.

"Jeez," Derek breathed out, and Stiles moaned in agreement. Derek leaned in, wrapping his arms around Stiles and pressing against him, kissing him as best he could as he started to move. It felt nice to be completely enveloped, to be lost in warm darkness with hands and lips on him, pulling soft sounds out of him in time with the thrusts of dick in his hole.

It felt really nice. Derek's dick was dragging right over the good spots, tugging at his hole in a pleasant manner. Derek was starting to gasp softly against Stiles's mouth, which was tame compared to the 'uhn, uhn!' and 'aaaah!' sounds pouring from between Stiles's lips. 

"Yeah, yeah, oh god," Stiles gasped, before he put his head back and tugged at the pillows. "Y-yeah, right there. Fuck, fuck." 

Derek started moving faster, more erratic like jabbing motions than deep thrusts. His noises were deep, coming from his chest, and his breath was so hot on Stiles's neck.

Stiles wriggled, teetering near orgasm. He shifted, trying to reach down to grab his own dick, so he could come, and Derek let out a little 'oh!' and grabbed it himself. He stroked him hard into time with his own movements, and it was perfect, just perfect.

When Stiles came, he tensed, toes curling, before he shook, grabbing at Derek and crying out. Derek pressed closer, shoving in as deep as he could and pushing his face into Stiles's neck. Then Derek just held him, keeping him plugged up and full, and it was a sensation Stiles wasn't familiar with but loved all the same.

But shortly thereafter, it was over. Derek drew away, looking uncertain, and Stiles laid there, all gooey, fucked out and pleased. Derek bit his lip, before he slid off the bed while Stiles watched. He went into the bathroom in the dark, and there was the sound of running water, before he came back with a wash cloth.

Stiles felt sleepy as Derek wiped him off, getting all the come of his stomach, as well as what had leaked out of his hole. Stiles was ready to ask him for a cuddle or maybe another round when Derek leaned in and gave him a little kiss on the lips.

"I'll give you some privacy," Derek said, slipping off the bed again. Stiles wanted to tell him that wasn't needed, but he just got dressed, gave him a little smile and left.

Pulling his lips to the side, Stiles turned onto his belly and pulled the covers over his head.

 

* * *

 

When Peter came to him, it was at night, an hour or so after he'd had dinner. Stiles was sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching the Overwatch match unfold before him with a blank expression. Why did he main Mercy again? Oh right, because there wasn't anyone on his team that had any self-preservation skills.

There was a short knock on the door before it opened, and Peter came in. Stiles had seen him once before, had witnessed him and Derek having a heated discussion that was steadily escalating into an argument as Stiles was being whisked away to his room. But now he could see him clearly, he realized he was devastatingly handsome.

There was an easy confidence to him as he walked into the room with one hand behind his back, before he gave Stiles a smirk. "I heard they're not letting you have anything fun to eat," he said, and Stiles wondered if it would be weird to ask him to talk during sex. Instead, he just nodded. "Well, I won't tell if you won't." Peter brought his hand forward, revealing a bag of fun sized candies, like the bags you buy before Halloween.

"Homigawd," Stiles said, reaching for it and tearing into it once he had it in his lap. He rooted through, found a Reese's cup and had it in his mouth shortly afterward.

Peter chuckled, sitting next to Stiles. He leaned in close, the hand he was leaning on sliding to the other side behind Stiles, and Stiles gave him an owlish look. "You've got a bit of..." Peter said, pointing to his own mouth where it was surrounded by an immaculate goatee.

Stiles lifted his hand to rub at his mouth, face hot, but Peter grabbed his hand, curling his thick fingers around Stiles's thinner ones.

"Let me," Peter said, leaning in and pressing his lips to the corner of Stiles's mouth, a sweet touch followed immediately by a hot drag of his tongue.

Stiles shivered and felt the gentle scratch of Peter's facial hair as he smiled into his cheek. 

"You're adorable," Peter murmured against his skin, and Stiles licked his lips in anticipation. "How about I show you a good time so you can sleep all through the night, hm?" 

Stiles didn't know how to do anything but nod, his groin already starting to pulse and his ass beginning to ooze a little. Apparently he was okay with fucking two guys, because when Peter pulled him up against his front, he clung like a koala until he was slid up the bed and laid down.

Peter made fast work of Stiles's clothes but left his own on for now, which made Stiles tremble a little, feeling exposed, though not in a bad way. All of his nerve endings were reaching for Peter, begging for his hands and lips. Peter took his time to look, and Stiles just moaned, wanting, hard and wet.

It wasn't long before Peter had Stiles bent almost in half, licking and sucking at his hole. Stiles couldn't contain himself. He'd never had this done to him before. He couldn't even move, because his knees were almost to his shoulders and his wrists were pinned to the bed. All he could do was take it.

Every now and then, Peter would move in a way that Stiles could see part of his face over the swell of his own balls. His eyes were sharp, watching Stiles in a way that made him feel wide open vulnerable. Stiles cried out, feet failing to find purchase on Peter's broad back.

Stiles was pretty sure he was drooling a little when Peter finally pulled back with a gentle kiss to his gaping hole, lowering him back to the bed and starting to remove his clothes. He was beautiful, and Stiles was intensely pleased the lights were on, so he could see every muscle rippling and hair.

Also, his cock, which was just... damn. 

"Turn over, baby," Peter said to him, and Stiles was in such a hurry to comply he nearly went off the bed. "Eager." Peter chuckled as he pulled Stiles to safety--Stiles blushed but couldn't help himself--before stuffing a thick pillow under his hips and spreading his ass cheeks. 

Peter didn't even pretend to be gentle, and Stiles was pretty sure that his eyes rolled into the back of his head from the onslaught of pleasure. He could barely breathe, had to stick out his tongue and suck air through his teeth, but god, he loved it. He now knew what it meant to be thoroughly fucked to an inch of his life. (He hadn't thought he'd wanted his cervix to take a beating before.)

Stiles knew that if he touched his dick just a little, he would explode all over the place. He let go of the pillow and tried to reach under himself, but his wrist was caught and pinned. Looking back, Stiles found Peter leering down at him.

"No, darling, just me," Peter said, snapping his hips forward so hard that Stiles gave a bit of a scream. "I promised you a good time, didn't I?" He started moving again, harsh and wonderful.

Stiles was trembling all over, just walking the agonizingly blissful line of orgasm. He was pretty sure that he could die and be okay with it. But then Peter leaned over him, pressing him harder against the mattress with his body, and Jesus this was even better. But then Peter bit his on the back of the neck, right above the top knob of his spine, and Stiles's vision whited out as he came hard.

Peter grunted into his neck, pressing all the way in, his hips jerking against Stiles's ass. He was tense for long moments, twitching, before he relaxed and joined Stiles in Jello Land. He moved eventually, tipping them both onto their sides and spooning Stiles, dick still throbbing a little in Stiles's hole.

Stiles's brain was still trying to reboot non-essential functions--math was last--and he happily snuggled into Peter's arms where it was supporting his head, and Peter curved his arm up to hold his shoulders. His other hand moved down to splay over Stiles's belly, right under his navel.

Then Peter just started talking, more like babbling, saying things about the beautiful babies they were going to have, how Stiles would be happy as his mate, how he would take care of him. Stiles closed his eyes, barely even registered the pretty noise, and let out a sigh, drifting off with Peter's warm breath against the back of his neck.

When he woke up, it was morning, and he was alone, but he didn't mind because he was snug under his covers and wiped clean. He buried his face back into his pillow and went back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Derek brought him breakfast on a silver tray and everything. He smiled and laughed a little, ducking his head a little, when Stiles told him he was glad that the silver affecting werewolves thing wasn't true. Derek set the tray on the little table by the window and lifted the cloche to reveal a mountain of scrambled eggs, some ham, bacon, sausages and toast.

Stiles wobbled gratefully over to the chair as Derek pulled it out, plopping down and letting out an 'oof!' at the impact on his butt. He picked up the silverware and looked at Derek, who had slightly wide eyes. "What?" he asked, pulling his fork close. "Yes, I get impressive cowlicks."

Derek shook his head, moving around to sit opposite of Stiles and pour him a glass of pulp filled orange juice. "Are you okay?" he asked, setting the glass in front of Stiles. "Last night, my uncle... he didn't hurt you, did he?"

Stiles paused with a bite of egg partway to his mouth. "No, he didn't hurt me." 

Derek watched him eat a minute. "He wasn't too rough with you, right?"

Stiles continued stuffing the piece of toast into his face until he had a bite big enough that it would give him time to think while he chewed. Finally, he swallowed and looked everywhere but at Derek's face. "He was rough, but I liked it." He could feel his face heating up, which was damn ridiculous. He should have been over the embarrassment.

"Oh," Derek said, and Stiles looked up at him, finding that uncertainty from the morning before. Derek licked his lips a couple times. "Would... Would you like it if I was rough too?"

Stiles chewed at the bacon a moment. "Um, if you want to." He looked down at his lap.

"Did you like it more than what we did?" 

Stiles tilted his head up and found Derek looking at him, not hiding his self-conscious worry at all, so he had to bite his lip. "No, I didn't. I liked what we did. I just like it rough too--apparently, last night was the first time." He flicked his away. "You don't have to compete to please me, y'know. This is just supposed to be about getting me pregnant, not, like, keeping me satis--"

"I want to," Derek said, looking so completely earnest that Stiles suddenly remembered Scott and felt a tightness around his heart. He touched his chest as Derek kept talking, "I want you to like it here. I want you to like--having sex with me. Because if you have my baby, you'll be--" He closed his eyes a second before he went on. "I'm not--I'll never be as good as..." He sighed. "My uncle has a reputation, a good one, so I'd understand if you liked that better, but--"

"I'll be more vocal," Stiles interrupted, pretty sure Derek would babble on for ages. "I'll try, anyway. I'm not very good at any of it either. But we can figure it out together." He shrugged, smiling at Derek hopefully.

Derek returned the smile after a minute, nodding his head. "Yeah, okay, that sounds good."

"But can you tell me what you want too?" Stiles asked, and Derek lifted his adorable caterpillars for eyebrows. "I mean, if you're gonna be my baby daddy, and we're gonna be together for the rest of our lives, you gotta let me suck your cock at least once so you know what you're in for."

Derek stared at him like his brain blew a fuse for a full thirty seconds, before he burst out laughing. 

A bit later, after Stiles had finished eating and shown Derek how to clip up a wall on one of his games, Derek had to go deal with pack business. "I'll be back in a few hours, and you can show me more..." He gestured at the screen.

"Legend of Zelda," Stiles provided, smiling up at him from his spot at the end of the bed.

"Yeah," Derek said, then hesitated. He stepped up to Stiles again and leaned down, giving him a soft peck on the cheek, before he more or less retreated from the room.

"Aww," Stiles told the quiet, before he leaned down to grab his bag of candy from under the bed.

 

* * *

 

The next time there was a knock on the door, Stiles figured it was Derek and called for him to come in. It ended up being Peter, and he was dressed super hot in a low v-neck, tight jeans, leather boots and a leather jacket. Stiles stared with his mouth open, and Peter grinned at him. "Put on some clothes, we're going out to lunch."

Stiles slid off the bed, aware he was wearing Spider-Man pajamas all of a sudden. "I thought I was supposed to stay in the manor?" It hadn’t been outright expressed to him, but he inferred it in the way the house staff kept saying that would give him everything he needed and wanted, so he didn’t have to worry his pretty little head.

Peter tipped his head a little. "You don't strike me as the type to do as you're told."

That had Stiles flushing as he grinned and started pulling off his pajamas to pull on real clothes. Peter stood there and watched him.

Sneaking out of the manor was ridiculously fun. Peter held his hand and pulled him through the halls and connecting rooms, once covering him with a curtain as a member of the house staff came bustling through. Then they were out a side door and into one of the garages. Peter rolled his motorcycle out, and Stiles hopped on the back, clinging to him and somehow controlling his laughter as they sped off.

Where they ended up didn't seem to impress Peter much, but he looked amused. "We could have gone anywhere. All you could eat Korean BBQ? Sushi bar? Steakhouse? Sure. But no, you want curly fries." He smiled and pushed his own serving over.

Stiles was stuffing his face with no remorse. If he needed to have sex with two people every day, he needed his damn calories, okay? He mauled his straw as he sucked orange Fanta through it, and Peter watched him as he ate his chicken sandwich. 

"Afraid I'll get fat?" Stiles teased, drowning his curled fry in ketchup before popping it in his mouth.

"Counting on it, actually."

Stiles went still, surprised. "That's not what I meant."

"I know," Peter replied with a smirk, picking up a napkin and reaching over to rub Stiles's mouth of stray ketchup.

Stiles swatted at his hand, embarrassed because he happened to catch someone looking their way. "Stop it, you're being weird," he said, before he wiped at his own mouth.

Peter looked a little stunned to be called out like that, before he sat back and looked around. "You don't want me to take care of you then?" he asked, with what Stiles would now refer to as the Hale Insecurity™.

"Well, it's not that," Stiles said, poking the small, burned fry on his tray. "You can, just not in public? If I'm gonna be a parent, I have to learn how to wipe my own mouth." He smiled as Peter chuckled a little.

"Maybe use a napkin, not your sleeve," Peter said, reaching forward to gather up their trash.

"Okay, Judgy McJudgerson," Stiles said, balling up his burger wrapper and tossing it at the tray Peter was holding. It bounced and landed in Peter's lap, where he grabbed it and added it to the pile. 

"Does not taking care of you in public mean I can't take you to GameStop and buy you things?" Peter asked, balancing the trays and trash on one hand.

Stiles gasped, jumping up. "You can totally buy me things. I will always be pro-spoiling."

Peter grinned. "Good to know."

It had been a bit since Stiles had been in a GameStop, mostly because he'd always been sans funds and didn't want to torture himself. On the way over, he realized something. He couldn’t let Peter lavish him with gifts. It wouldn’t be fair to him if he ended up not a father. So he decided to let Peter buy him  _ one _ thing. One small thing. Maybe 1000 Microsoft Points or something similar. He'd said this to Peter all the way over, and Peter had hummed in agreement. He didn't change his mind when they walked into the store. He just forgot he had a plan at all, because  _ omg stuff! _

Peter didn't seem to be in his element, so he just followed after Stiles at a comfortable distance, glancing around like the whole gaming culture was bemusing. So Stiles bounced around the store like he'd been snorting sugar, commenting on new games, used games, games he kept forgetting about but still needed to play, and all the merchandise.

Then he froze when he saw something, Peter nearly bumping into him. "Oh my god," he breathed, gravitating over to a display to pretty much push his nose into it. "I didn't know they released Breath of Wild edition Switches!" His fingers squeaked on the glass. "It's so beautiful!"

"Limited, really limited," the pierced and tattooed girl behind the counter said, her snake bites spreading as she smiled. "Comes with the Master Edition of the game, which has a statue, carrying case, and a whole lot more swag."

Stiles whined, before he unstuck his face from the display. It was all so glorious and painfully expensive.

"Do you want that?" Peter asked from behind him.

Stiles turned and gave him dinner plate eyes. "I said one small thing. This not a small thing."

"Small is relative to the size of your bank account," Peter told him with a smug smile.

"I would vomit on you if you weren't trying to be generous," Stiles said, squinting at him as the employee laughed softly. He looked back at the display case. He really,  _ really _ wanted that console and the box set of the game. He chewed his lip, trying to think up a good reason to tell his possible future baby daddy no. He failed.

"Okay, but just this once," Stiles insisted, knowing he could be easily bribed.

"Alright," Peter purred, looking pleased with himself. The attendant was already getting their purchase together when he started glancing around. "Hm, you said you wanted those points, right? Where are--?"

"Nooooo!" Stiles cried, swatting at Peter's chest and making him laugh.

 

* * *

 

Derek brought him dinner on a tray again. It was a citrus steak with grilled asparagus, cherry tomatoes and halved garlic cloves. There was also a kale salad with a light vinaigrette dressing and walnuts. He poked at that with slight distaste.

"Don't like it?"

Stiles looked up and stopped prodding the salad. "It's not that I don't like it. This is just the kind of food I force at my dad for his heart problems. It sucks the enjoyment out of it, because now I'm just worrying if he's eating right and taking care of himself."

Derek was silent for a long moment, before he shifted in his seat. "Does he have medical bills?" he asked, slowly like he was going to offend Stiles.

Stiles laid down his fork. "Yeah. Why?"

"I could talk to my mother and see about having them paid."

Stiles's eyes went wide at that. Was he serious? Why would he offer something so... substantial? "Derek," he started, rubbing his palms against his lap. "You can't just... We've been paying the balance since I was a teenager, and it's still like fifteen grand. That's a lot of money. It goes beyond spoiling me just to make me happy. It goes beyond anything I deserve--"

"That's not true," Derek almost barked, and Stiles shut his mouth fast. Derek rolled his lips between his teeth. "No matter what happens, no matter whose baby you have, you're one of us now. You're pack. Pack means we take care of each other, every one of us."

Stiles couldn't help himself. "Family means no one gets left behind?"

"Exactly," Derek said, nodding. Then he paused, brow furrowing. "Hey!" He laughed.

As he was eating, Stiles brought up his new game system, which had been charging since he got back. When Derek expressed an interest in watching him play it, Stiles was delighted. They ended up the bed with Derek against the headboard and Stiles leaning into his chest, a constant stream of near nonsense about all the Zelda games pouring out of his mouth. Derek gave appropriate noises of assent and didn't try to backseat game, which was awesome.

But then Stiles got way too involved with the game and stopped talking, more concerned with ponies and dungeons and flinging Link across enormous spaces. He only stopped focusing when he heard a little snore, and he looked up to find Derek asleep in a position that would only mean a sore neck later. So Stiles saved his game and set it back on its dock.

He turned and got his legs over Derek's, sitting down in his lap and smiling when Derek woke with a cute snort. Blinking up at him, Derek rubbed his eye and made a noise of question. Stiles found that so adorable that he had to lean in and kiss him, even though Derek had a tiny trail of spit on the corner of his mouth.

"Can I blow you?" Stiles asked, delighting in the way Derek shivered. "You can stop me before you come, if you want to save it. I just really want your dick in my mouth."

Derek gave him huge eyes. "Jesus." He started shuffling, pulling off his sweater with its thumb holes--so cute--and reaching down to open his pants. He didn't get much farther because Stiles was wiggling in his lap, tugging off his hoodie and undershirt, because he wanted Derek's hands on him. 

When Derek reached over to turn off the light, Stiles grabbed his arm and pulled it back. "Hey, it's not fair that you can see me with your glowy wolf eyes but I can't see you. You got a really embarrassing tattoo or something?"

Derek gave him big eyes, before taking his hand. "I don't... think it's embarrassing."

"You have a tattoo?" Stiles asked.

Derek was looking at their hands. "But I was seventeen when I got it, so maybe it is."

"You have a  _ tattoo?" _ Stiles asked again, louder, and when Derek looked up, Stiles grabbed his face and got close. "Show. Me."

Derek chuckled, before he grabbed Stiles under the thighs, lifting him up and setting him to the side. Stiles would have complained about leaving that warm lap, but being manhandled was kind of hot. (Okay, more than kind of.) That and Derek was turning around to show his back and the black swirls between his shoulder blades.

"Wow," Stiles whispered, reaching forward to touch the tattoo, to trace the curves with his fingers. Then it hit him. "This is your family crest, right?" he asked, laying his hand on it.

"Yeah, a simplified version of it," Derek replied, looking over his shoulder at him. "I just really wanted it." 

Stiles swept two fingers over all three connecting whirls, before he leaned in and kiss the high point of the top swirl. "I love it." He looked up at Derek's smiling eyes. "Now roll over, so I can suck you off already, you great big distracting thing, you." He grinned when Derek laughed.

Stiles hadn't sucked many a dick, but he was confident in his ability. The noises Derek made were encouraging. So was the way he hesitantly set his hand in his hair, stroking over his scalp. Stiles bobbed his head, hollowed his cheeks, licked at the slit and used his hand to stroke what he couldn't get in his mouth. He wasn't very good at breathing when he should and had to pull off a few times. The look on Derek's face though, that was amazing.

Then Derek couldn't take it anymore apparently, grabbed onto Stiles when he pulled off to breathe and had him on his back in a flash. Stiles grabbed onto the headboard as Derek pulled off his pants, his dick bobbing between his thick thighs with his movements. Stiles was hard and wet too, and he threw his legs open the moment his feet were free. He licked his lips as Derek stayed on his knees, grabbing Stiles by the ass and lifting to push into him.

Stiles arched with a cry, wrapping his legs around Derek's trim waist. He looked up when Derek didn't move right away, his mouth open. Derek was looking down at him, an expression on his handsome face far too tender for what they were doing. Stiles smiled and squeezed his muscles around that dick pointedly.

Derek quickly got with the program after that. He had taken their talk to heart and wasn't treating Stiles like he would break with a bit of hard boning. Instead, he was moving rough and pulling Stiles's into him while holding his ass up off the bed. God it was good too. 

His cock was bouncing, slapping against his tummy and leaving sleek trails of precome. He knew he was going to blow, and he wouldn't even need to touch himself. He was gasping, moaning, being loud, and Derek was too. The wolf was so into it, digging his fingers into Stiles's skin. If he had little bruises, Stiles would be delighted.

There was lots of scratching at the headboard and crushing Derek's waist with his waist when Stiles came. He even cried out Derek's name, or tried to. If it was actually "Dereeergeeck!" that he screamed, he couldn't be blamed, because all his brain cells were shooting out his dick. 

Derek thrust in one last time, letting out a sound that wasn't all together human as he came.

They fell into an undignified sprawl, and Stiles was pretty sure he could just fall asleep right there, marinating in their juices. But after a bit Derek started to move, pulling out. That was fine, but then he made moves like he was going to get off the bed entirely.

"No," Stiles said, wrapping his legs and arms around Derek and clinging. That was an accomplishment, because he had jelly limbs. "No leaving. It's fucking cuddle time. Stay, boy."

Derek snorted at that. "Dog jokes will get your ass bitten."

"Oooh, promise?" Stiles batted his eyelashes at Derek, who rolled his eyes. "Seriously though, stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?"

Derek swallowed, looking down and to the side, like he wasn’t sure if he should, like it was crossing a line or a chance he wasn’t sure he should take. He could be so weirdly hesitant at times that it broke Stiles’s heart.

Finally, Derek nuzzled his face into Stiles's neck. "Okay, I'll stay."

Stiles relaxed, sighing happily. "Thanks."

"Mm." Derek sighed too. He lasted about thirty seconds of silence, before he said, "Can I at least clean us up? I feel gross. And we need to turn off the light."

"Uuuuugh, fiiiiiine," Stiles replied, his limbs flopping out. He was totally sleeping in the middle now. He would not be moved.

At some point, probably early morning, Stiles felt lips in his hair and heard a murmured farewell in his ear. He fell back into a deep sleep after, curled up in the heat Derek had left behind.

 

* * *

 

When he woke up again, it was to the most amazing smell in the world, which was being waved right under his nose. “Bacoooon,” he said, probably drooling a little as he reached for that delicious goodness. But it was pulled away, so he had to actually open an eye to look up at Peter’s smug face.

“Good morning, dear,” Peter said, pulling the plate of bacon away to set it back on the tray. “You look so cute when you’re dead to the world. You snore a bit. Much like a kitten purring.”

Stiles was not awake enough for this shit. He pulled his covers up and subtly wiped the spit from his cheek. He looked at the bacon on the tray, sitting there on his side table. “I’m naked,” he said.

“The sky is blue,” Peter replied easily.

Frowning up at him, Stiles huffed. “I’m not just stating a fact. I mean I’m not comfortable enough getting up and eating at the table naked. I need to put on something.” He knew he was skinny and weird, and that was easy to forgive during sex, but it wasn’t attractive during normal activities. 

Peter hummed in consideration, before he waved his hand at Stiles. “Sit up and scoot.”

Stiles did as told, scooching over so Peter could pull the covers back and get into the bed too, sliding the tray onto his lap once he was settled. Stiles didn't even think about, just cuddled into his side. Peter was so warm. It was a wolf thing, he was sure.

"So, you chastised me for trying to coddle you in public," Peter began, and he didn't let Stiles respond before going on, "And I understand. You're an adult. You don't want to be treated like a child, not when you're going to be a parent."

Stiles nodded.

"But I hope you will at least let me treat you like a creature to be cherished and lavish you with attention when we're alone."

Somehow managing not to giggle a lot, Stiles lifted a brow. "I dunno. What does that entail, exactly?"

Peter picked up one of the pieces of bacon and tore off a third of it, bringing that piece right in front of Stiles's mouth. Stiles didn't know how to react immediately, because he's never had anyone offer to feed him before. He opened his mouth and accepted the piece of warm, greasy bacon with a pleased hum. 

He could be down for this.

Peter fed him portions of everything on the tray, which was a fruit salad, buttery and flaky hash browns, chocolate chip waffles and of course the crispy bacon. It was nice to get to just lean against Peter and let food come to him. When he was full, he slid back against the pillows with a pleased sigh.

“Y’know, I might demand this when I’m pregnant,” he said, and Peter gave a little laugh as he set the tray aside, a bit of everything left, except the bacon. “Seriously, like, my ankles are gonna get fat and sore, so I’m not going to be walking to any tables. My back will hurt, so I’ll need to recline a lot.” He scooted right into Peter’s side when Peter lifted his arm. He fit snugly against his shoulder and immediately started picking at his shirt.

“See any bright side to this endeavor?” Peter asked, rubbing his hand up and down his arm.

“Uuuuh.” Stiles squinted, thinking quickly. “The bigger my belly is, the wider the plate I’ll be able to balance on it?”

Peter chuckled at that, giving Stiles a bit of a squeeze and kissing his forehead.

Stiles spent a good two minutes just trying to identify Peter’s soap, before he had a realization. “Why are you being so cuddly?” Stiles asked, looking up at the wolf. He was soft, hadn’t shaved yet, and his hair was fluffy instead of styled. 

Peter smirked at him. “I will have you know I’m perfectly capable of cuddles.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. “Yeah, I know, but last time you were cuddly, it was after you fucked my brains out.”

Peter looked like he wanted to maintain his air of smugness, but then he just sighed and sank into the pillows. “You’re right. I’m not feeling very energetic at the moment.”

“Late night?” 

“Yes, and early morning,” Peter replied, rubbing his eye. “I got very little sleep in the name of pack business. Had my sister not been there, guarding the door like a gargoyle, I would have taken off to spending my time in here instead.”

Stiles rubbed his cheek against Peter’s chest, wondering about his discomfort with responsibility. He liked to bend the rules, sometimes break them. Had he cut and run from pack business before? That wouldn’t cut it if he wanted to lead a sub-pack. Hopefully he’d figure it out when he became a father.

He looked up and saw Peter rubbing his eyes again. “Hey,” he said, pushing up onto his hand to look down at Peter. “You’re not going to fall asleep, right?” He snorted when Peter shrugged his shoulders as if to say, ‘maybe, maybe not’ while smirking like an absolute shit. “I don’t think so.” Stiles lifted up and planted himself in Peter’s lap, the blanket sliding down off of him. “You don’t get to come in here and not sex me up.”

“Are you saying I’m not use to you if I don’t put out?” Peter asked, actually putting his hand against his chest like he was affronted.

“Isn’t that kind of the point to this whole thing?” Stiles gestured to the lavish room. “Plan Preggo?”

“Perhaps,” Peter said, dragging his eyes down Stiles’s body then back up. He put his hands behind his head. “But I am  _ really _ tired.” 

“Let’s wake you up a bit,” Stiles said, doing his best not to giggle at the sheer cheesiness of that line. Peter seemed amused by it too, his eyes dancing with it, so Stiles rocked his butt down against his lap. He delighted in the way Peter’s nostrils flared as he tipped his head back.

Licking his lips, Stiles grabbed the hem of Peter's shirt and pulled it up to his collarbone, just so he could lean in and tug one of his nipples with his teeth. Peter's gasp was wonderful, and so was the rumble of laughter from deep in his chest. Stiles kept going, biting his way down Peter's front and licking his toned stomach as his fingers undid pants and got his dick out.

"Jesus, had I known bacon was your personal aphrodisiac, I would have brought you some much sooner," Peter breathed out.

Stiles huffed as he stroked him, not bothering to tease when he was already leaking against Peter's jean-clad tight. "Maybe I just got impatient waiting for you to get on with it."

Peter clucked his tongue. "I'll have to be lackadaisical more often."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him, before he lifted up as he held Peter's dick up. He sank down and moaned, before he bit his lip. "You better not. I'll have you know I'm insatiable." This was a new discovery.

Hissing at Stiles moved, Peter just smiled at him, every bit a wolf. "I like watching you like this, taking your pleasure. It's delicious. I already want to see you do it again." He slid his hand up Stiles's thigh.

Stiles bared his teeth at him, rocking his hips forward and back. "Do you wanna win or not, alpha?"

That brought red to Peter's eyes like fire, and he sat up straighter to grab Stiles's ass, lifting and bringing down on his dick. Stiles cried out, thighs squeezing tight at Peter's sides as he wrapped his arms around his neck. He moved as Peter directed him, doing his best to follow the tugs of his strong hands as rough as he could.

Eventually he got it, bouncing in his lap, and Peter wrapped his arms around his back, just holding onto him and growling into his neck. Stiles could barely breathe, eyes closed and head back as every itch he ever had were scratched all at once. He let everything fall away: his loneliness without his friends and dad, giving up his aspirations, and the task he had been given.

His orgasm came slow, like rumbling thunder on the horizon. It tightened the muscles of his feet, his calves, his thighs, and moved slow up his spine. Then like a  _ crack _ of lightning down the center of his being, pleasure exploded into bliss. 

So, whiting out after an intense orgasm was apparently a real thing, because Stiles definitely lost a little time there. He came to sprawled against Peter's chest, panting against the side of his face. He felt hot and sticky all over, except in his legs, which he could not feel. He could, however, feel the soft girth of Peter's dick still in his ass.

"Ahmigud," he tried to say against Peter's cheek, his lips catching on the stubble and sticking to the sweat-damp skin. "Please move me. I've lost the ability to do anything."

"Except talk?" Peter didn't move right away.

"Pssh." Oops, did he just release a little spittle into Peter's cheek? "That'll never go away. Talking is basically all I am."

Peter hmphed and managed to get Stiles onto the bed and pointed in a rational trajectory. "Not all you are," he said, sinking into the pillows. "Not even close."

Stiles didn't know what to do with that, such he just smooshed his face into Peter's shoulder. "Are you even gonna take off your clothes?" he asked, gesturing very minutely at Peter's rumpled shirt and open pants, dick still hanging out.

"Mm." Peter looked down at himself, before he let his head fall back. "Nah, I'm  _ so _ tired."

Stiles snorted and started to just laugh. After a bit, Peter joined in.

 

* * *

 

Things continued as they were like it was the new normal. He got fucked everyday by both his alphas, which was pretty much totally amazing and never got boring. He had time to make up for, since he was young and had had very few prospects before this. And being boned by two dudes? That was like one of his many masturbatory fantasies.

Derek kept on being unsure of himself, but he was attentive and interested in Stiles’s needs and wants. He even let Stiles teach him how to play Wii Tennis. He was startlingly competitive once he got the hang of it, but he didn’t complain when Stiles accidentally whipped a controller at him. He just secured the strap on Stiles’s wrist, chuckling. It was great to see him having fun.

Peter continued breaking the rules by sneaking him food he wasn’t allowed and then doing the occasional jail break. The went to see the new Star Wars at the movie. On the way there, Stiles was delighted to find out that Peter was a total nerd for the universe. They agreed on a mutual dislike of the prequels. Peter bought him an Icee and a big bucket of extra buttery popcorn. At the end when Stiles was  _ not crying _ , Peter even held his hand.

 

* * *

 

One morning, Derek brought him breakfast. And hanging over his shoulder was what looked like a thin yoga sleeve. Stiles was immediately worried, because if Derek wanted them to exercise together, they were going to have problems. He was more the type to laze around most of the time, suddenly feel guilty about his health and spend six hours in the gym, before becoming incredibly sore and vowing never to do it again. But Derek didn't say anything about it, just put the plastic tube on the bed and brought the tray to the little table.

Throughout breakfast, Derek asked Stiles how he slept and how he was enjoying his game. Stiles was barely coherent enough of the conversation to answer. He kept looking over at the bed. He didn’t want to do yoga. He would rather do bedtime aerobics. 

“You’re not about to make me exercise, right?” he asked suddenly, completely interrupting whatever Derek was saying. “Health food is fine. Pampering me is fine. But I can tell you right now that I draw the line at yoga. I’ll most likely bend into a pretzel and get stuck.”

Derek gave a long, slow blink. “I’m sorry, Stiles, but what are you talking about?”

Stiles very dramatically pointed at the tube on the bed. “That!” he announced, and Derek lifted a bushy brow at him. “The yoga mat!” He wiggled his finger at it.

Derek looked at the tube on the bed then back. “Oh,” he said. “That’s not a yoga mat. That’s… Here.” He got up and went over to the bed to open the tube. Instead of a yoga mat, he pulled out a rolled up length of laminated white paper. He spread it out on the bed, and Stiles sidled over curiously to peer past Derek’s thick arm.

“A house?” Stiles asked, looking down at some blueprints.

“Yeah,” Derek said, sliding his hand across the slick plastic covered paper.

“Did you draw this?” Stiles pointed at the initials in the corner. D.H.

“Yeah,” Derek said again, corner of his mouth quirking up, before he looked at Stiles. “I’m going to build it on our land. We can raise our child in it.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say. He was sure there were right words, wrong words, but he didn’t know any of them. All he could do was stare, completely taken aback and dumbfounded. Frozen. 

Derek’s smile fell slowly, and he pressed his lips into a line. “Too much, too fast?” he asked, rubbing the corners of his blueprints between his fingers. “I’ve been told I come on too strong.”

Stiles looked down at the house in print. “No, you’re fine, I just… I was just surprised. I had no idea you were an architect.” He tried to smile at Derek and probably failed.

Derek gave a soft laugh. “I like to draw, but I’m not an architect.” He drew the plans close and started rolling them up again. “I think I would be, if my mom didn’t need me here.”

“Yeah, if your mom didn’t need me here, I think I’d try and be a deputy or something.” Stiles set his hand on Derek’s arm. “Show me the house? I better have a gaming room. One I can lock you out of when I’m tired of your perfect face being all perfect.”

Derek chuckled, before he rolled out the plans again and pointed at the second floor. “You can have any of the small bedrooms.” He hummed a bit, before he tapped the room of the other side of the house from the master bedroom. “Actually, that one. The farther away from our room the better, that way maybe I can get some sleep while you’re playing your games.”

“We’ll see about that.” Stiles leaned in and kissed Derek’s shoulder, hiding his expression against his sleeve.

Could he do this?

 

* * *

 

“A picnic?” Stiles asked as Peter pulled into a parking spot near a trail. “Seriously?”

“What?” Peter asked, twisting back to grab a picnic basket out of the terribly small backseat. “Why is that so surprising?”

“Because it’s weird and romantic.”

“I can be weird and romantic.” Peter flashed him a smile before he got out.

Stiles let out an  _ ugh _ and got out too. He jogged over to meet Peter at the mouth of the trail. He attempted to look into the closed basket, but Peter just moved it this was and that, so he couldn’t. 

“There better be booze in there,” Stiles complained as he stopped chasing the basket.

“I’m not going to give alcohol to someone who might be expecting,” Peter teased, swinging the basket behind his back as they walked.

“Boo, since when do you follow the rules?” Stiles complained, even though he knew the guy was right.

“There are two rules meant to be followed, and that is one of them.”

“And the other rule?” Stiles asked, sliding his hand toward the basket, but he got nothing but ass when Peter moved it. Win, anyway.

“Don’t sleep with your best friend’s lover.” Peter reached back and took Stiles’s hand, holding onto it.

It would have been romantic if it weren’t to keep Stiles from grabbing at the basket. Stiles could pretend it was sweet though, walking hand in hand with Peter down a trail in midday. “Who’s your best friend? Is he nice?”

“My best friend is my sister,” Peter replied with a snort.

“Oh,” Stiles said, blinking. “So you not sleeping with her husband doesn’t so much have to do with following rules as…?”

“Not wanting to die horribly, yes.” There was a smile on Peter’s face. “That and Max isn’t terribly interested in dick, so I found out one Thanksgiving when I was incredibly drunk.”

“I can see that,” Stiles said with a laugh. “You had me worried though.” Peter lifted a brow at him. “I thought you were about to be responsible for a hot second.” He drifted closer to Peter, who released his hand and put his arm around him.

“I’ll admit I’ve been having gross, responsible thoughts,” Peter admitted as though it pained him.

“Yeah, like what?” Stiles asked, trying to reach around Peter’s trim waist to get his hand on the basket.

Peter just held it out of reach. “Like what kind of car I’m going to get before the baby is born. My current car barely seats too. There’s no way we’ll get a baby seat in there.”

Oh. Stiles wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Yeah,” he agreed after a too-long moment. “Your backseat is really small.” He wondered if he could lighten the mood by saying it would be terrible to make out in, but Peter started talking first.

“Tell me, have you thought of any names for the baby?” he asked.

Stiles shook his head, screaming inside his mind. He didn’t want to think about this. It was easier when it was just sex and food that wasn’t part of his diet.

“Uh,” he replied, at a loss.

Thankfully, Peter didn’t say anything else about it, just kept walking with his arm around Stiles. They came to a clearing on a hill overlooking the town, and Stiles had to catch his breath at the view. He stared out over the houses and stores and the little mall as Peter spread the blanket on the ground behind him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Peter asked.

Stiles kept staring, nodding like a bobble-head. “Yeah. I’ve never been up here before.”

“That’s good, otherwise you’d be trespassing on Hale land.”

That had Stiles turning to lift his brows at Peter, who was sitting on the blanket and setting out plastic containers he’d had stored in the basket. “Really?”

“Mmhm, in fact, this is the land that our new house will be built on.” Peter pulled out a glass bottle that Stiles thought was wine for a moment until he realized it was sparkling grape juice.

_ Jerk. _

“Whoa,” Stiles breathed out, looking over the hilltop again then down. The slope wasn’t too steep, but it was steep enough for one really dumb idea. He grinned as he plopped down on the grass and promptly rolled right down the grass, squealing as he went.

“Stiles!”

Stiles came to a stop at the bottom, giggling soundlessly because he didn’t have enough oxygen for it. He hugged his stomach and curled up, almost hurting from laughing so much.

“Stiles?” Peter appeared above him, his face all concerned as he looked down at him. “Are you alright?”

Letting out a delighted wheeze, Stiles gave him a thumbs-up. He was great.

 

* * *

 

At three weeks into his stay with the Hales, a box of pregnancy tests appeared in his bathroom. He stared at them for a long time, standing there in his pajama pants covered in little cartoon Death Stars and his favorite towel over his shoulder. He’d been about to take a shower, and now he was going to pee on a stick.

...for exactly five seconds, as the instructions said. Or he could pee in a cup and dip the stick. That would probably have less collateral damage from wayward spray. He did that instead, dipped the stick for five Mississippis and then put the cap on to wait.

“Three minutes?” he complained at the little instructional booklet. He sat down and played Emoji Blitz on his phone for a bit. He usually got annoyed with it before his lives were up anyway.

_ Not Pregnant _ the stick said, very clearly, and Stiles couldn’t decide whether he was relieved or disappointed.

 

* * *

 

Neither Derek nor Peter said anything about the tests. Stiles could pretend that maybe they weren’t aware, but he wasn’t stupid and neither were they. They were just keeping a silence of convenience. That was fine with him.

 

* * *

 

“So I saw the land the house is going on,” Stiles said as he reclined, naked, against an equally naked Derek, who was playing with his hair, and that was  _ so good. _ Better was that Stiles had somehow convinced Derek that he didn’t need to cut and run after each time they had sex.

“Yeah?” Derek asked, dragging his nails along Stiles’s scalp.

“Gnnng, yeah.” Stiles melted at that touch, nearly forgetting the stupid thing he wanted to say. “It’s on a hill, so like… you know I’m gonna hold--don’t stop--gonna hold the baby up on that hill and sing Circle of Life, right?”

Derek chuckled at that. “Yeah, and I’ll be right there with my arms out just in case.”

Letting out a gasp like he was offended was hard to do when Stiles was a puddle of pleased goop. It ended up being a weird noise, and he waved his hand like he was slightly intoxicated. “How  _ dare _ you, sir, insinuate I would drop my own spawn?”

“Do you even know how to hold a baby?” Derek rubbed his thumb over the soft spot just below Stiles’s ear.

“Dangle them by the ankles, right?” Stiles replied with a giggle. “I hear it’s good for the spine.”

“Oh jeez,” Derek huffed, his head thunking back against the headboard.

“I find it adorable that you don’t swear. It’ll come in handy when the baby comes,” Stiles babbled, before he just started laughing. He only got enough composure to put Derek’s hand back on his head for more scratches.

 

* * *

 

“This is a good burrito,” Stiles mumbled quietly into Peter’s jaw. “Best burrito ever.”

“Mm,” was Peter’s noise of agreement.

They were wrapped up nice and tight in their covers, completely snug and warm. Stiles would have felt like he was getting tucked into bed as a child if he weren’t pressed firmly against a naked man with their legs all tangled together.

Peter nuzzled against his hair. He was a serial cuddler, especially after sex, and it was amazing. But Stiles had concerns, and he would not be swayed into a lull of comfy naps.

“Hey,” Stiles muttered against Peter’s stubbly skin. “I have a question.”

“I more than likely have an answer,” Peter replied, squeezing his feet around Stiles’s ankle.

Stiles closed his eyes. “Will I, like, be allowed to have a job after the baby is born?” When Peter didn’t answer immediately, he launched into some word vomit. “I mean, I know you are all rich and powerful and all that, and I don’t  _ need _ a job, but I would like one, even if it’s part-time. Obviously I don’t want the baby to be raised by nannies--not that there is anything wrong with that, of course, like, I dunno if you had nannies or--”

“Stiles,” Peter said, holding him a little tighter and making him squeak. “Of course you can have a job. You seem like you’d get cabin fever immediately.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. One time I was sick for like two weeks, and I was just climbing the walls--not literally, but it felt like literally--I’m sorry, continue.”

“We will have a nanny though.” Peter squeezed Stiles again when he opened his mouth. “A werewolf nanny, to assist for when the baby has his or her… moments.”

“Violent moments?”

“I would say  _ wild _ moments, especially during the full moons.” Peter swept his hand down between Stiles’s shoulders to his lower back. “Werewolf children can be difficult to handle if you’re not used to it.”

“Are you saying the Terrible Twos will be truly terrifically terrible?”

“A terrifying troublesome torment, for sure.”

Stiles couldn’t  _ not _ laugh like a hyena at that one.

 

* * *

 

_ Pregnant _ said the stick, at four and a half weeks. Stiles stared at it then tried to shake it like an Etch-A-Sketch. It didn’t change, so he plopped down on the toilet seat and tried to think. Logically, he knew he shouldn’t hide it. He was pretty sure the werewolf staff could smell a peed on stick from a hundred paces anyway.

“Dammit,” he said to the empty bathroom. Alright, he would tell the first alpha that came to him.

And of course that was Derek, coming in with a tray of breakfast and a smile on his face. “How’d you sleep?” he asked as he removed the cloche. 

“I’m pregnant,” Stiles said, because he was smooth like that.

Derek stared at him, eyes huge, and held the cloche up above the table for a good half a minute before he slowly put it down. “Oh,” he said finally, glancing down at the breakfast then back at Stiles. “Okay.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll go tell my mom.”

When Derek headed for the door, Stiles honestly thought he was going to cry for the first real time since he’d come to this place.

But then Derek whirled around and headed right for him. “God, I’m so stupid,” Derek was saying, putting his arms out and pulling Stiles into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you took me off guard, I’m sorry.”

Stiles put his arms around Derek’s waist and buried his face into his neck. He hugged him tight, trying and failing not to freak out. God, there were cells rapidly reproducing inside him now. In a few months it would be a person. A werewolf person with parents that were brought together in a competition. Shit. That would be a difficult story to tell when the kid was like nine or ten.

Derek moved back just enough to kiss the side of Stiles’s head. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No matter what?” Stiles asked, looking up at him.

Derek had a grim set to his jaw, but he nodded. “Yeah.”

After a bit more hugging, Derek left. Stiles sat down at the table and was unable to bring himself to eat the food he’d been brought, even though it was waffles, and he loved waffles. He wasn’t sure it was going to be okay, because he wasn’t sure what okay even was.

Who did he want to be the father?

 

* * *

 

Fifteen minutes of staring at his tray later, the door opened, and in walked Peter. He didn’t say anything as he came over to the table, dragging the other chair around closer to Stiles before sitting down. He took Stiles’s hand in his and rubbed his thumb across his bony knuckles. 

“A nurse is coming in soon,” Peter said without prompting. “For a bit of blood and a urine sample, to check your hCG levels.”

Stiles nodded, looking down at his feet, bare with his toes buried in the carpeting.

“I can stay if you want me to.”

Stiles nodded again, swallowing hard. “What about Derek?” he asked, looking up just in time to see Peter’s face change, looking surprised, then a little hurt, before a sober mask slipped down. Peter let go of his hand, but Stiles snatched it and pulled it to his chest. “That’s not what I meant. Please don’t go.”

Peter scooted closer, tugging him into a hug. “If you want him here, I’ll get him for you.”

Stiles nodded in Peter’s shoulder. He then watched as Peter pulled back and retrieved his phone from his pocket, scrolling with his thumb then sending Derek a text message that said  _ Get to Stiles’s room ASAP _ before he set his phone on the table and went back to holding Stiles.

“Oh my actual god,” Stiles said into Peter’s shoulder.

“You didn’t think I would go get him in person, did you?” Peter asked, a smile very clear in his voice. “If he doesn’t have his phone with him, that’s his problem.”

“You’re a bad person,” Stiles told him, ashamed that it sounded like praise.

“I know.”

It was about two minutes before the door flung open so hard it banged into the guard. Stiles and Peter looked over to find Derek there, peeking behind the door like he was checking for a hole in the wall. He gave them a sheepish face.

“You said come as soon as possible,” he said, flicking his eyes between them.

“They’re going to take my blood and pee,” Stiles explained, reaching out for Derek, who looked at Peter but came anyway, taking his hand. 

“Oh,” Derek said, rubbing Stiles’s hand between his larger ones.

Derek and Peter very carefully didn’t look at each other for the next ten minutes that it took for the nurse to get there. He peed in a cup then had a couple vials of his blood taken. He was what the nurse called a ‘hard stick,’ so it took a few pokes for her to get a vein. There was also some slightly hilarious business with who got to hold onto his free hand.

After the nurse left, in walked Talia Hale. He had talked with her very briefly, but that was when he had just arrived and was shell shocked to be in such a place. She wasn’t a tall woman, but she had a huge presence, being the Sovereign Alpha of California. She easily shooed Peter out of the chair he’d been hogging and sat down across from Stiles.

“How are you feeling?” Talia asked.

Stiles responded between giving a small, closed-mouthed scream.

Talia smiled at him and patted his hand. “I know. But don’t worry. I have everything covered. I have been meaning to tell you that I also paid your father’s medical bills. I don’t want you to worry him. I want you to worry about yourself.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, blinking a good twenty times. “Thank--thank you, Madam Alpha.”

She shook her head, smiling. “Please, call me Talia. You’re carrying my niece or grandchild. We’re family now, in some way or another.” He stood and pressed a kiss to Stiles’s head like he was a scared little kid in need of some mothering. It felt kind of nice.

 

* * *

 

When he reluctantly had to let Derek and Peter go do productive things, he picked up the wireless house phone next to his bed and dialed his dad. He hadn’t called anyone since he’d arrived, too busy in the limbo of being horrified of his situation and wishing he could do this forever. Hopefully his dad hadn’t lost all of his hair in worry.

“Stilinski,” was his dad’s gruff greeting.

“Hey, daddio,” Stiles said, trying to laugh instead of cry as his throat threatened to close up.

It took a moment before his dad said, sounding relieved and delighted, “Stiles! Hey, bud, how’re you doing? Do I need to come kick some butt and break you out?”

Stiles wiped at his eyes, laughing. “No, no, no rescue needed. Everything’s… Well. I’m pregnant, Dad.”

“Oh. Oh, okay.” John cleared his throat. “Well, that’s… Is that good, kiddo?”

“Haven’t decided yet.” Stiles scrubbed his hand through his hair. “It’s a step in some direction at least.”

“That’s true.”

Stiles sniffed. “They paid your hospital bills.”

“Yeah.”

“They’re going to take care of me and the baby.”

“Yeah,” his dad said again, gentler.

“Why am I not ecstatic? I should be jumping up and down, right?”

“I don’t know. I think you’re doing just fine.”

Stiles pulled the blanket over his head. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Sure thing, bud.”

 

* * *

 

The pregnancy test came back positive, and Stiles thought everything was going to change. But it didn’t, not really. Derek kept bringing his breakfast. Peter kept bringing him sweets. Derek kept playing video games with him. Peter kept breaking him out to take him places. 

The thing that changed was the sex. It went from constant to completely nonexistent. That was annoying. He liked the sex. He was young and bendy, and he wanted dick.

“Am I not attractive to you?” he blurted out to an unprepared Derek one breakfast.

Derek took a moment to join Stiles in left field. “What do you mean?”

“Do you not find me hot? I mean, we were been going at it like bunnies for weeks. I thought you actually liked having sex with me. Do you not? Were you only banging me to get me pregnant? Are you not going to fuck me anymore? Are you straight?” He squinted at Derek with accusing eyes.

“I’m…” Derek started, before he sat back. “Which one of those questions do you…” He rubbed at his lips a second. “I think you’re hot.” 

“Why no bunny sex?” Stiles asked (whined).

“I thought… You might want a break?”

Stiles frowned in Derek’s direction. “Okay, from now on, just assume I wanna bang. Like, only think I don’t want to bang if I say, explicitly,  _ Derek I’m not in the mood. _ And even then, just ask me again in like fifteen minutes. I’ll have probably changed my mind.”

Derek gave a snort, his mouth pulling up at one sex. “Do you wanna have sex after you eat?”

Stiles shoved an entire piece of buttered toast in his mouth as he nodded.

 

* * *

 

It was easier to tell Peter that he wanted sex. All he needed to do was wait until the alpha usually came in--after dinner--and just be naked. So he did that. But it wasn’t Peter that came in after a polite knock; it was Talia. He’d never dove behind the cover of a bed so fast in his life.

“We’ll be able to take a viable paternity test in four days,” Talia told him, looking at Stiles’s messy desk like it was at all interesting.

“So soon?” Stiles asked, sitting on the floor and draped in his comforter.

“Werewolves grow faster than in the early stages of life and slower in the later,” she explained, pushing his Roccat gaming mouse back and forth with her finger. “Gestation is thirty-two weeks instead of forty.”

“Neat.”

Talia heaved a sigh and turned to look at him. She looked older then, somewhat tired. “Thank you for doing this, Stiles.”

He blinked at her. “It’s not a problem.”

“You and I both know it’s not a blessing either,” she said, giving him a knowing smile. “But thank you. Both my brother and my son have become complacent as of late. They needed a push, a drive to be more. I didn’t think until later that you also might want to be more. So, whatever you need, whatever you want, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“College,” Stiles said without thinking. She lifted her brows at him. “Online classes, I guess. I want to stay close with the baby. But, college.”

She nodded to him. “Of course.”

As she headed for the door, Peter came in and gave her a curious look as she passed. He came in and turned in his eyes on Stiles, who was still on the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Your sister saw me naked,” Stiles said, slightly traumatized.

“Why are you naked?” Peter asked, coming to crouch in front of him. He was smiling, the asshole.

“I was going to try and get you to fuck me sideways.” Stiles pushed his bottom lip out in a pout.

“I see.” Peter took hold of the comforter and pulled it out a bit, looking in. “Still interested, or did my sister scared you permanently flaccid?”

Stiles grinned and leapt at him. He was young, so he bounced back fast.

 

* * *

 

Stiles hadn’t been in this part of the house yet. He hadn’t been in many parts, actually, just his room and the halls he and Peter used to sneak out. He was in a big sitting room with a fireplace with a long mantle, bookcases, an old timey writing desk with the slatted, sliding door you could lock, and several comfy chairs and sofas around the glass coffee table. Stiles was in one of those chairs, and the rest of the Hales were there too.

Laura and her mate were sitting together, fingers laced and heads close together. It was sweet.

Max, Talia’s mate, was sitting in one of the chairs, looking soft with a thick beard, wavy brown hair at his shoulders and a cardigan with thumb holes. Stiles had to wonder if that was what Derek was going to look like in his later years. He could live with that.

For some dumb reason, he was surprised to see Cora there. He’d gone to high school with her, and she’d been on his peripheral the whole four years, and she’d never registered as a Hale in his brain. She’d been in marching band and had looked hilarious in that tall hat and her snare drum. Now she was dressed in black, skulls and piercings all over the place, with a purple and pink undercut. She noticed he was staring at her and stuck her split tongue out at him.

Derek and Peter were sitting on one of the sofas, somehow managing to sit far apart even on a two-seater. They were not looking at each other, didn’t even acknowledge each other. It was sad. They were family.

Talia was sitting in the chair with the tallest back, directly to Stiles’s right. He managed to resist making Game of Thrones references, only because she was far more larger than life than any fantasy queen. She was sitting with her legs crossed, a white envelope in her hand. She tapped it on her knee lightly.

“Alright, let’s not stand on ceremony or anything ridiculous,” Talia said, lifting the envelope. “I haven’t looked. I wasn’t sure I should.” She looked to Stiles and held the envelope out to him. “You’re the bearer. You should know first.”

That was not what Stiles wanted. He wanted to be slapped in the face with the news so this would all be over. He was bound to just hold this out. He reached out and took the envelope, turning it over to slip his thumb under the flap. He took a deep breath and pushed the flap up to reveal the folded paper, which was green. (He had no idea why.) 

Then he went still, the whole universe shrinking down to this room, this moment. It all came down to this. His brows came together as one thought crossed his mind; this was so  _ stupid. _ He laid the envelope in his lap and looked at Talia.

“No,” he told her, steel in his spine and voice.

She lifted her brows at him. “No?”

He nodded. “No.” He lifted the envelope and ripped it in half, which was a lot less easy than he wanted because it and the paper were so thick, but he managed.

“Stiles?” Derek asked. “What’re you doing?” He’d been leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his mouth hidden in his folded hands, almost like he was praying, but now his hands were limp between his knees.

Stiles dropped the papers to the floor and stood up, unrealistically pleased her was suddenly the tallest in the room. “I’m saying enough.”

“What do you mean?” was Peter’s question. He looked younger, unsure of the situation, which was a thing he was obviously uncomfortable with.

“This!” Stiles gestured to himself, all of them and the room, knowing it didn’t make any sense. “This is stupid!”

“Stiles--” Talia tried, scooting forward in her chair to reach out to him. “It’s okay.”

“No,” he told her again, just as firm. “It’s not okay. This whole thing is not okay. You’ve put me and them--” He waved his hands at Peter and Derek frantically. “--in a terrible position.”

“We explained everything before you came here--”

“That doesn’t make it right!” Stiles more or less yelled at her. “You’re making them compete and treating it like it’s some kind of last ditch effort for family or something.” He dragged his hands down his face. “My question is; why does it have to be one or the other?”

Talia was actually speechless then, staring up at him with her mouth open slightly.

He probably could have stopped there and let the conversation become diplomatic, but he was on a roll, so he turned to the shocked alphas. “Sorry to say it, guys, but neither of you are ready to do anything on your own. You!” He pointed to Derek, who shrank back a bit. “You’re not sure of yourself. You hesitate. How can you be trusted with your own small pack if you can barely make decisions on your own?”

Derek looked like Stiles had just stabbed him right in the heart with the nearby fireplace poker.

“And you,” Stiles went on, turning his attention to Peter, who had looked smug for a minute like he might get away without a scolding. “You have the impulse control of a kid! Like, a kid whose parents gave him a hundred bucks for road trip snacks, and you just buy gummies and Red Bulls.”

Cora let out a braying laugh at that, before he covered her mouth and shrank back into the cushion on her chair. She let out one last tiny snort.

“I can’t just…” Stiles looked down, laying his hands over his stomach. “I’m not comfortable with just one of you. And you guys don’t seem to understand how you would work so well together if you could stop being bitchy teenagers for two seconds.” He sighed. “Derek, you’re not even thirty yet. You don’t understand the responsibility of running a pack. How could you do that and be a dad? And Peter, you know exactly what it means to run a pack, but you’re so afraid of responsibility you hightail any chance you get. Why can’t you share the burden? Why can’t you find a tempo you’re both comfortable with. I mean, with Derek’s kindness and Peter’s experience, being co-alphas should be a breeze.”

Stiles sank down in his chair like his legs wouldn’t hold him anymore. “I’ll have all your babies. One million babies… Okay, maybe not that many, but you know.” He ran his hand over his eyes. “I’m not going to be the reason the Hales stop being one big, happy family, okay? That’s not cool. So not cool. Making a sub-pack does not mean breaking the unit.”

He looked at his alphas and fixed his face in a great big petulant pout just to punctuate his point.

Finally, Derek and Peter looked at each other. They didn’t seem to know what to say, or how to start saying anything.

“You guys were friends once,” Laura said, holding her mate’s hand tight. “Best friends. When Derek was younger. Uncle Peter, you taught him how to play basketball.” 

“Derek, remember you used to say you wanted to be just like Uncle Peter?” Cora added, curled in a ball in her chair with her toes squished between the arm and the cushion. “What changed?”

Derek pulled his eyes away from his sister to Peter. “You suddenly didn’t have time for me anymore. We used to do everything together. You were my best friend.” He pressed his lips together and just breathed for a few moments. “Why aren’t you my best friend anymore?”

“You stopped needing me,” Peter said, sounding like he had to force it out. “I was there to help with basketball and homework and when your shifts were bad, but you grew up. I realized…” He scrubbed his palms along the tops of his thighs. “You were changing, getting better, and I was staying the same, the Hale family black sheep. I was running out of time to… change at all. And I don’t know how.”

Derek’s bushy brows bowed at that. “I’m still--There are things I don’t know or understand, things I’m scared of. I kept wanting to ask you, but you can barely look at me, especially since all this started.” His voice cracked just a little. “I don’t want to compete. I want my best friend back.”

Peter grabbed Derek by the back of his head and jerked him into a tight hug. Derek clutched at Peter’s shirt with his fists, sucking in harsh breaths as Peter murmured nonsense to him. Stiles was pretty sure he heard an apology in there, but he hoped no one quoted him on that. 

This was not what he had expected to happen at all, but he’d certainly take it and not give it back.

“Well,” Talia started, looking relieved. “This worked out better than I could have ever dreamed.”

“Are we supposed to believe this was your goal all along, Mom?” Laura asked, looking deeply unimpressed.

“You don’t know it wasn’t,” Talia replied, and Max chuckled in the chair next to her.

 

* * *

 

“If you make me eat kale chips for lunch again, I will actually scream,” Stiles said, sitting on his sofa with his legs folded. His swollen belly pretty much hid his feet, which made him less concerned about how swollen his ankles were. He rubbed his palm across his innie-turned-outie. His daughter did a one-two step on his insides. “The spawn requires some goat cheese and hummus on toast with a side of incredibly rare steak.”

“Anything else?” Derek called from the kitchen. He’d given up trying to get Stiles to call the kid by her actual name before she was born.

_ Amelia Joy Stilinski-Hale. _

“Chocolate shake?” Stiles tried.

“You had a chocolate shake with brunch.”

“I don’t see your point.”

Peter’s voice came drifting in from his study. “Let him have a chocolate shake.”

Derek made the same noise he always did when he recognized he was outnumbered. It was generally accompanied by the Hale Eye Roll™.

Stiles laughed and rubbed his belly. He didn’t know that he would be so happy, even if he was incredibly fat and had the equilibrium of a baby hippo on a balance beam. But here he was in the house Derek designed, the house the Hales built together, the house that Peter filled with soft furniture and family heirlooms. This was perfect.

“You want a chocolate shake, don’t you, my little belly burster?” he asked his kid, palm over where she liked to rest. She kicked him right in the heart line.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't slept in three days.
> 
> /gentle crying
> 
> Come bother me on [Tumblr.](thesushiowl.tumblr.com) I do public prompts sometimes.


End file.
